The Games
by kittytrypsin
Summary: One planet's hatred of all things Vulcan spells trouble for the away team. Story now completed with chapter fourteen.
1. Default Chapter

**THE GAMES**

Disclaimer#1    Paramount owns the characters of the series Enterprise, I've just 

                        borrowed them for a while, and I promise to give them back…

Disclaimer#2    No profit is being made from this story.

Archive            Yes, please just let me know where.

Characters        All of the regulars.

A/N                 script inside '' and in _italics_ indicates a person's thoughts.

                        As I haven't seen season two yet, this is purely fiction for fun.

Summary          A planet's hatred of all things Vulcan spells trouble for the away team.

CHAPTER ONE

Trip Tucker stopped to catch his breath, sweat stinging his eyes, his chest heaving in an attempt to take in enough air for his tortured lungs. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take, but he refused to be beaten.

"Trip, take it easy, you're pushing yourself too hard."

Trip looked at Captain Jonathan Archer, his best friend of nearly ten years, and shook his head.

"Gotta keep goin'…you know how important it is to get fit after injury. Doc says "get plenty of exercise" an' I'm takin' him seriously. You go on back to the bridge, Cap'n; I'll just be another while here. I'm ok, honest."

Jon sighed in frustration at his stubborn chief Engineer, but he knew he wouldn't convince Trip to stop before he was ready. Trip seemed to attract injury and trouble like honey pots and bees, and he was once again pushing himself in the ship's gym, striving for full fitness.

"Ok, but if you're still here when my shift ends in an hour, I'll confine you to your quarters. Dr Phlox didn't mean for you to end up back in sickbay."

Trip ducked his head in acknowledgement and gave his friend a cheeky grin.

"I'm through with sickbay; ya can take my name off that bed. From now on, I'm stayin' behind Malcolm. Any trouble's lookin' for me'll find him instead. He's the Armoury officer; let him take some flak for a change."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Enterprise was in standard orbit around Solan, an M-class planet. The ship's mission was to make first contact with new worlds, and Jon still felt a frisson of excitement every time they arrived somewhere new.

The senior bridge crew and Dr Phlox all stood around the central console in the situation room.

"What does the Vulcan database have on Solan, Sub-Commander?" Jon addressed his second in command. 

T'Pol drew herself up straight, hands clasped behind her back. "The Solanese race was a very violent people, Captain. They were physically very strong and there was little, if any sense of right or wrong."

"You said "were"; does that mean they've changed?"

"Several attempts to aid their transition to a civilised society were made by the Vulcan High Command, but were rejected. However, according to more recent reports, their lawlessness has abated."

Trip had been listening to the spiel, and could contain his impudence no longer. "Sounds a lot like Vulcan used to be."

T'Pol swung round to face the engineer, a steely look in her dark eyes. "Vulcan is not proud of its violent past, Commander Tucker, but thanks to Surak, we came through our Time of Enlightment. We no longer allow our emotions to govern our actions."

"Makes ya feel all warm an' superior to everyone else, though, doesn't it?"

"That would be an emotional response, Commander." She thought she'd got the last say.

"Oh, yeah, right, I forgot…no emotions." '_I don't think!'_

Jon listened to the banter between his two senior officers. Trip never seemed to tire of trying to annoy the young Vulcan, but mostly, of late, they tolerated each other quite well.

"Ok people, time out. So, back to Solan. Are they civilised enough for us to risk making contact?"

"I would caution against it, Captain." T'Pol felt the human need to rush into situations against advice would be their undoing.

"We'll just say hello, and take it slowly from there. Hoshi, open a hail."

Ensign Sato moved gracefully across to the Communications station and sent the greeting in the language they'd found in the database. An immediate response returned.

"On screen," Jon ordered, taking his seat as his officers moved to their posts.

He could feel the atmosphere tingling with anticipation as the link was opened. This was what they had signed up for, why they were out here, and light years from home.

"I'm Jonathan Archer, Captain of the earth Starship Enterprise. We're explorers and bring greetings from our people to yours."  

The Universal Translator transferred his English to Solanese, and they waited, watching. The alien on screen pressed a few buttons in front of him, and when he replied, it came through in English.

"Captain Jonathan Archer, you and your crew are all most welcome to Solan. I am Chancellor Ardl. I will send you the landing co-ordinates for our capital city. Please come and visit. We have much to share with you. I have just one request: please ask your young Vulcan friend to remain on board your vessel."

TBC

  



	2. chapter two

CHAPTER TWO

Trip had found it very hard work to refrain from getting as much mileage as he could from the situation. The chancellor's comments could only be taken as a snub against T'Pol. During the transmission he sidled up behind her, invading her comfort zone, and whispered into her delicately pointed ear.

"I don't think he likes Vulcans, Sub-Commander."

She could feel his warm breath on her sensitive ear and tried to quell the sensation that that evoked within her. Instantly she recalled their first mission and the time they'd spent together in the decon. chamber, afterwards. When she closed her eyes, she could feel his strong hands gently rubbing the gel over her back, the nape of her elegant neck, her ears…Mentally berating herself for her distracted thoughts, she moved away from her tormentor and spoke to Jon.

"I will be perfectly happy to remain on board, Captain."

Jon had signalled for Hoshi to put the transmission on hold during their conversation and immediately after Ardl's comment. He looked at T'Pol for any sign that she was offended by the Solan's words.

"I don't like being told that one of my crew isn't welcome. Maybe we should just give their invitation a miss."

"Captain, whether you accept his invitation or not is your decision, but I wouldn't want you to base it on his comment. You will discover that not everyone out here will like your species. Vulcans have already discovered this and we did not allow it to hold us back from space exploration. If you still wish to visit Solan, I will not be offended."

Jon weighed up the facts and acknowledged the words of his Science officer. The greeting directed towards him and the rest of the crew had been cordial and had seemed genuine, and given the planet's history with Vulcan, perhaps Ardl's reaction was understandable. He nodded to Hoshi to re-establish the link.

"Very well, Chancellor, I'll be happy to accept your invitation. We'll be with you shortly."

The image faded from the main viewer as Jon rose from his chair.

"Trip, Malcolm, Hoshi, report to Shuttle bay one. Sub-Commander, you have the bridge."

"Aye, Captain, and might I once again recommend that you exercise caution. Do nothing to offend these people. They may have even less control of their tempers than Commander Tucker."

Jon's lip twitched as he caught what he imagined was a gleam of humour in T'Pol's dark eyes. Trip was ahead of him, heading for the turbolift, and swung round as he heard T'Pol's parting shot.

"Hey, I heard that!"

"Ok, Commander, you've a shuttle to prepare, keep moving." Jon tapped him gently on the shoulder.

As they exited from the turbolift and moved towards the shuttle bay, Jon slowed his walk and indicated for his friend to match his pace.

"Trip, ease off on the Vulcan-baiting a bit. T'Pol must be feeling a little miffed by Ardl's attitude, no matter what she says. And anyway, I thought you and she were getting on much better?"

"We are, Cap'n, but sometimes I just can't help myself. It's like somethin' inside me wants to see her emotionless façade crack. Somehow it would make her more…I don't know, human, I guess."

"But she's not human, Trip, that's the whole point. And if what I've read about the pre-Surak Vulcans is to be believed, we should be only too happy to let her keep her emotions completely under control. I don't think you'd like being on the receiving end if she lost her temper."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Ardl stepped forward as the access hatch opened and Jon stepped out into the warm sunshine. He was followed out by Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, Security and Armoury officer. Malcolm was constantly suspicious of all new contacts until proven wrong, and had had to use all of his persuasive powers to get the captain to include a security detail on all away missions. The number of times things had gone awry on previously unprotected missions was uncomfortably high. This time, he was determined that they'd all come back unscathed, and he'd be keeping an even closer eye on the next two out of the shuttle.

Hoshi stepped out cautiously. She still didn't feel comfortable about space travel, even after so many months on board, but this was what she lived and breathed: learning and speaking new languages. She held a doctorate in Linguistics, and had the captain not persuaded her to join their mission, she would have been teaching languages to willing students anywhere she chose. Instead, she found herself sometimes the only common denominator between the Enterprise crew and a hostile species.

During the transmission from Solan, she'd employed the UT, and it had easily learned the language, updating from the Vulcan database. She had it with her now, and she was along in case they met new dialects.

Trip leapt out of the 'pod, firmly sealing the hatch behind him. He'd notified T'Pol that they'd arrived safely and then shut down the engine. The engineer had featured in more than his fair share of trouble on away missions, taking up a good deal of Dr Phlox's time, and the resources of their well-equipped sickbay, more often than he cared to think about. But, in spite of that, his natural enthusiasm for exploration meant that he became sullen if he was excluded from visiting new planets.

Jon introduced them one by one and Ardl greeted them all with a firm handshake. Face to face he was a tall, well-built, handsome man with a healthy outdoor complexion.

"Welcome, friends. Come, my home is yours. I want to hear all about your ship, and your planet. And I will answer anything you want to know about us."

He took Hoshi's small hand and tucked it under his arm, escorting her in a most gallant fashion, leaving the three men to bring up the rear. 

They followed Ardl into the impressive building in front of them and found themselves being ushered into a large, luxuriantly furnished room. The Chancellor indicated for them to make themselves comfortable and waiting staff brought them tray after tray of exotic foods. Trip, always a little dubious of alien cuisine, sniffed at the plates suspiciously. Hoshi stifled a giggle as she leant across to him.

"Commander, you'll offend our host. Just eat, it won't bite you." To set her senior office an example, she lifted a delicate morsel to her lips and chewed. 

Trip grinned sheepishly and followed suit. "Hey, this tastes like prime rib. Cap'n, this is really good; you gotta try some."

Jon had been engaged in conversation with Ardl, allowing his officers to partake of the proffered food, but at Trip's interruption, both he and the Chancellor joined them.

"My compliments to your chef, Chancellor, this is indeed wonderful fare. When we visit new worlds, we're never sure whether we'll find the local cuisine…um, compatible." Jon had on his diplomatic hat, remembering T'Pol's advice against annoying these people. Once before, memorably, they'd insulted an alien race because they ate in public.

Ardl smiled. "We pride ourselves on our foods. It's as much to do with the preparation as the presentation. Eating is a social activity for us, and great pleasure is to be gained from having guests to share it with."

"You ought to meet the Kreetasans. They'd freak out at your ideas of social activities," Trip couldn't help but add. He, too, had remembered the strange aliens who'd stormed off Enterprise, leaving behind a slimy creature that had caused all sorts of problems for the captain and himself.

"We weren't always like this, as no doubt your Vulcan crewmember has informed you." Ardl sounded bitter, and Jon trod carefully.

"Sub-Commander T'Pol gave us a brief insight into your planet's past. It's nothing to be ashamed of; all worlds evolve from their less civilised origins. Our own planet had to do the same. It's not too many years since our last great war. The very fact that you **_have_ moved on is a testament to your strength."**

"Speaking of strength, Captain, that's one of the ways we did…evolve. We were a warrior race; even our women were fighters. We fought each other, killing off the weak to become as strong as possible. Very few other races visited Solan because they feared us. We even feared ourselves, such was the in-fighting. Vulcan came through its own darkness and wanted to evangelise Solan."

"Oh, they love doin' that," Trip slipped in when Ardl paused for breath. Jon shot him a look.

"I hate to admit it, but the first few Vulcans didn't fare too well," Ardl continued. "But they're nothing if not persistent, and they kept sending more. After many attempts to curb our savage nature, a way was eventually found."

The four members of the away team were completely transfixed by the history lesson unfolding before them, especially when it involved Vulcans.

"Go on, sir, what was it?" Malcolm enquired politely, but as much agog as the others.

The Chancellor smiled at their rapt faces. He had fed them a lure, and now was reeling them in, hook, line and sinker.

"We regularly release our…desire for fighting by holding games, feats of strength and endurance. This satisfies our bloodlust to a degree, and whilst it's still the survival of the fittest, nowadays, only the unfortunate few actually die."

TBC


	3. chapter three

CHAPTER THREE

Trip was the first to express what everyone else was thinking. "Did he just say what I thought he said?"

Jon looked around at their comfortable surroundings, seemingly part of a civilised and polite society, and yet he'd heard their host's words too. A feeling of apprehension was settling into the pit of his stomach as he recalled T'Pol's words of caution about the Solanese. 

Chancellor Ardl had delivered his comment in a quietly calm manner, seemingly unaware of the emotions coursing through the minds of his listeners, and had simply got up and left them after that, encouraging them to finish their meal. Somehow, the members of the landing party had lost their appetites.

Jon cleared his throat. "I think T'Pol was right, we shouldn't have come here after all. Let's just politely make our excuses and get back to the shuttle. We'll just chalk this one up to experience."

They moved towards the door, but when they examined both it and the windows, they were disconcerted to discover that there were no handles on the insides.

"Ok, this isn't good!" Hoshi muttered nervously. 

She watched the three men grimly search the room for any means of escape. Trip threw a chair at the window pane, but it refused to shatter. Malcolm fired his phase pistol, on both settings, but it had little or no effect on either the door or even what they'd assumed to be glass in the windows. Jon flipped open his communicator to raise the ship, but the sound of static filled the air.

"I don't know what's going on here, but something tells me it's going to get ugly. Malcolm, when the door opens, you and I will aim for whoever comes through. Trip, you take care of Hoshi." He was taken aback by the young woman's vehemence.

"Hoshi will take care of Hoshi, thank you. I've been taking target practice with Lieutenant Reed and my aim's much better now. As we've still got our phasers, we might as well shoot with four as two." Hoshi's young worried face was pale with fright, but the look in her eyes was pure determination.

Jon matched her determined look. "Ok, but stay close to Trip, and watch where you're pointing."

They took up strategically defensive positions around the room to cover the door and windows.

"Whaddya think they're plannin', Cap'n?"

"I wish I knew, Trip. I have a feeling it's got something to do with the games Ardl was talking about. Something tells me we could be the next Christians for the lions' den."

*~*~*~*~*~*

The away team had been gone three hours when the hail came through from the planet.

"This is Enterprise," T'Pol answered, seated in the captain's chair. Crewman Johnson at communications had already ascertained that the hail was from Chancellor Ardl.

"Ah, my dear, I need to speak to you privately…a delicate matter. Is there somewhere that you can accommodate my request?" Ardl's tone was unctuous.

T'Pol arched an elegant eyebrow and fought the urge to refuse to talk to the annoying alien, but turned to Johnson. "Patch the call through to the captain's ready room." 

She rose gracefully and strode across the bridge. Once inside, she retrieved the call.

"Very well, Chancellor, your call is now receiving my undivided attention. I am Sub-Commander T'Pol, Enterprise's First Officer."

"Thank you, Sub-Commander. What I have to tell you is…difficult, but nevertheless needs to be said."

Suddenly from behind Ardl, a second figure loomed into focus. He resembled Ardl in some ways, but his Solanese features were much coarser. '_This was how the Solanese people used to be,'_ T'Pol thought to herself, recalling what she had read in the Vulcan archives.

Ardl was still speaking. "This…gentleman is a follower of the Brocahn, a sect which never fully evolved from our more aggressive ancestors. They have taken Captain Archer and your officers against their will and are holding them in confinement. They refuse to release them unless you come here in person."

T'Pol heard the chancellor's words, but something about the explanation didn't add up. 

"You previously made it quite clear that my presence was offensive to you, and that I was not welcome on Solan. And now you say that unless I **_do_** come down, you will continue to detain the away team. For what purpose would you have me attend?"

"Gil has assured me that your people are unharmed, but as their communicators have been rendered ineffective, you're going to have to take my word on that. Please come immediately. Explanations will be given when you're here."

T'Pol felt that she was being marched into a trap, but for the time being, she'd have to play along.

"I will need some time to arrange things on board."

When Gil spoke, there was little or no refinement in his voice. "You have thirty of your minutes, Vulcan. I suggest you don't waste them."

When T'Pol emerged from the ready room, her face was composed and unflustered, revealing nothing of her inner turmoil. She crossed to the communications station.

"Hail the Captain."

Johnson made several attempts to raise the away team, but shook his head.

"Sorry, Sub-Commander, but it's no good. There seems to be an intermittent fault, or maybe some form of blocking."

"Ensign Barr, can you get a lock on their biosigns?"

The man seated at Tactical shook his head. "Sorry, Ma'am, there's too much interference. All I'm getting's a lot of random figures, nothing identifiable."

The faces of the bridge crew had grown anxious for their missing people. Travis worried especially for Hoshi, knowing how jittery she still was at meeting hostile aliens.

"Ensign Mayweather, I'm leaving you in command. I will shortly be taking the second shuttle to the planet's surface in an attempt to locate the away team. Should any of them manage to contact the ship, please inform the captain of my actions."

Travis nodded in startled amazement. He'd been at the helm when they'd first made contact with Solan, and had heard Ardl's offensive words about Vulcans. And yet, here she was, clearly defying the chancellor's request that she stayed on Enterprise. _'Just what **was said in that conversation in the ready room?' he wondered.**_

T'Pol made her way, firstly to a weapons locker, where she removed several phase pistols, and then to sickbay to apprise Doctor Phlox of developments.

"I'm unsure as to why they want me to come down, Doctor, but this sect is clearly a throw-back to their violent past. Chancellor Ardl claims that the away team is unharmed, but I believe it is only a matter of time before they are. Please prepare a med kit for me. My rudimentary knowledge of first aid may be of some use until we can return to the ship."

"Much better if I were to accompany you, Sub-Commander. You said yourself that you don't know why they want you there, but given their past relationship with your people, it's safe to assume that their intentions aren't entirely honourable. You might end up in need of first aid, yourself."

"Your presence would only antagonise them, Doctor."

"Only if they know about it. I'll remain on the shuttle until you've made contact, and then…have a sniff around. I really do think it's for the best."

T'Pol had her reservations about that, but had to agree that having a physician close by may prove helpful.

"Very well, but they will be making contact again within the next ten minutes. I suggest you hurry with your preparations."

"Just as you say, Sub-Commander. I'll meet you at the shuttle."

By the time T'Pol had made it back to the bridge, the thirty minutes were up. She directed the next message from Solan to be again re-routed to the ready room. She watched the image of the fate of the away team unfolding before her, her lips tight with controlled anger.

"Your demonstration of force was unnecessary. I'd already agreed to come; I simply needed some time to inform the crew. Violence against our people will serve no purpose."

Gil sneered into the viewer. "I'm making the decisions around here. Just get your little pointy ears down here, or worse will happen."

TBC


	4. chapter four

A/N     Many thanks to all who have taken the time to post a review. They are REALLY appreciated, even those with helpful critiques. I took advice a little while ago to flesh out my stories, and perhaps I'm guilty of having gone the other way now. As my school reports undoubtedly must have said "must try harder."

But keep those reviews coming, please and thank you. Now, where were we….?

CHAPTER FOUR

Hoshi's sharp hearing was the first to detect the approaching footsteps beyond the door.

"Someone's coming!"

They scrambled back into their defensive positions, phasers trained on the door. It opened a mere four inches, just enough to allow a hand to toss an object into the centre of the room. Malcolm fired at the closing door, and thought he'd heard a muffled cry, but couldn't be sure. His attention was fixed, like the others, on the small cylindrical object lying innocuously on the floor. Hoshi screamed and clasped her hands to her sensitive ears several seconds before the others copied her actions.

"Grenade!" Malcolm yelled, as their faces contorted in agony, their senses bombarded. One by one, they fell to their knees, keening in pain, until, mercifully, unconsciousness came to claim them and they collapsed.

The grenade sputtered to silence as the door opened fully. Ardl and Gil stepped into the room, viewing the scene with obvious satisfaction. 

Ardl spoke. "When she arrives, I'll continue to play the genial host. If I can get her into the building without suspicion, it'll make it easier to take her. I'd rather she was unharmed; it'll make her a much better test subject. I've waited a long time to get a Vulcan to experiment on. Have these four taken to the Communications room; I want her to see them before she leaves, it will help speed up her arrival."

Several attendants entered the room and dragged out the unconscious officers.

"Such a waste of perfectly good food. And I'd had it **_specially_ prepared for them," Ardl tutted.**

Gil regarded him with impatience. "It won't go to waste. Give it to tomorrow's combatants, it will add to their performance. And remember, in order for the additives to work on the Vulcan, she mustn't know it's in the nourishment. You have remembered that I told you they are vegetarian?"

"Yes, yes, I don't need to be told everything twice. She's vegetarian, is very likely to be suspicious of everything, and will demand to see the prisoners; that's where you come in. Once I've got her inside the house, it's over to you. She'll be like putty in our hands."

Gil snorted derisively. "You know precious little of Vulcans. They're a haughty bunch; think themselves superior to everyone else. That's why breaking her will be all the more enjoyable."

"Whatever; we'll have our sport anyway, with these humans. I've arranged for the men to receive a little 'softening up'. The woman, I'm going to keep for myself. She's a skilled linguist, and a pretty little thing. Quite an interesting combination, don't you think?"

*~*~*~*~*~*

Shuttlepod two settled gently onto the turf beside its twin, and T'Pol alighted cautiously into the setting sun. She held a phase pistol steady in her hand as Ardl approached.

"Sub-Commander, thank you for making good time. I can't tell you how sorry I am that this has happened to your landing party. The Brochanee insisted on dealing only with you."

"Where are Captain Archer and the others?"

"I don't know. Gil attacked them and took them away. Please come into my home. He'll make contact with you, there."

Ardl didn't wait to give her a chance to refuse, but turned and led the way. T'Pol looked around at the deserted area in front of the chancellor's home, and resigned herself to following him. She felt certain that it was a trap, but had to follow it through, for now. Every sense was screaming at her to be on her guard, and the phase pistol in her hand was rock-steady. Ardl ushered her into the same room the others had used, and invited her to sit.

"Thank you, but I prefer to stand. When do you expect this man to make contact?"

"Right now, my proud Vulcan." The voice came from behind her, and she made to spin round and confront the speaker, but a strong arm pinned hers to her side, a hand clamping firmly around her own, crushing it painfully. She gasped as she was forced to drop the pistol. Gil stepped round in front of her, staying well away from her pinching fingers.

T'Pol rubbed tenderly at her wrist. "Where are my crewmembers? What have you done with them?"

"Ah, T'Pol of Vulcan, so typical of your race: straight to the point, no thought for your own predicament. I'll answer your questions in good time. But you make us poor hosts; won't you join us in some refreshment?" Ardl tried to defuse the situation.

T'Pol's eyebrow rose and her eyes were filled with scorn at the thought that these men would assume she could sit and make small talk under the present circumstances.

"I hardly think that's appropriate, do you? Allow me to see the others, and perhaps then we can have our discussion."

Ardl's veneer of civility snapped in the face of such cold control. He stepped forward and ran his index finger down her smooth cheek. She resisted the urge to snap his finger off and hand it back to him.

"You won't remain so aloof, Vulcan. We'll take great pleasure in re-programming you, and it will be your ship's misfortune that you stopped off at Solan. Take her to see the others."

The two men who had been standing behind T'Pol grabbed her arms and marched her out of the room. After a few twists and turns in the journey, she stood before a locked door, and when it was opened, she was encouraged to enter. The room resembled a prison cell with only one heavily barred window. Fastened into the walls were crudely effective restraints in the form of chains. Attached to several sets of those chains were the three male members of the away team. All were heavily bruised, and unconscious.

"Where is Ensign Sato?" T'Pol kept her face and voice carefully void of any anger, but inwardly she was appalled at the conditions the men were in.

"The young woman is unharmed; I'm not a barbarian." Ardl had followed them into the cell. "She will provide a…diversion for me during the early rounds of the games. I'll take you to her, now."

*~*~*~*~*~*

T'Pol had been relieved of her communicator and phase pistol before being locked into another cell, but she was unfettered. The light was non-existent, relying on moonlight coming through the window. After a while her sight acclimatised, and she noticed the huddled form in the corner. Crossing to examine it, she discovered it was Ensign Sato. She was breathing steadily, but T'Pol couldn't determine if the young human had any injuries.

"Ensign, waken up."

Hoshi heard the familiar voice from a long way off. It persisted in getting closer and closer until she decided that the only way to make it stop was to reply.

"Ok, ok, I'm awake. Oh, my head hurts."

She clutched her throbbing temples and screwed her eyes shut, attempting to relieve the worst headache she'd ever experienced. Gradually, she struggled to a sitting position and squinted open one eye. By the pale moonlight she recognised the shapely form of T'Pol, bending over her. Both of her eyes flew open in surprise.

"Sub-Commander, when did you get here?" She winced at her pounding skull, but managed to remain focussed on her senior officer.

"I was summoned here a short time ago. Naturally, it was a trap that I had little choice but to step into. You and the others had been imprisoned. Can you tell me what happened?"

Hoshi looked around at her surroundings and shivered.

"These people aren't as civilised as reports would have us believe. It seems they hold blood sports to release their violent tendencies, and when we tried to return to the shuttle, they threw some sort of stun grenade at us. Where's everyone else?"

"They are in the room next to ours, but as we are unable to assist them at present, we should conserve our energy until such time as we can."


	5. chapter five

CHAPTER FIVE

Jon was the first to regain consciousness, if being in a sea of pain could accurately describe being conscious. Every part of him hurt and he struggled to remember what had happened. Squinting open bruised eyes, he took in their grim surroundings. Puzzled as to why he insisted in keeping his arms in their present uncomfortable position, he looked up and saw that his hands were manacled to chains set into the wall. He pulled experimentally on the chains, but they refused to give. 

Glancing to his right, he saw Trip and Malcolm similarly restrained. Malcolm was moaning softly, an indication of awakening. Trip was still out cold. Both men looked like they'd encountered a bunch of very angry Klingons. Jon winced as he took in their battered appearance, knowing full well that he would match them, bruise for bruise. Malcolm groaned a little louder before slowly catching his breath and painfully squinting open his eyes.

"What happened?"

"Malcolm, can you hear me?"

The lieutenant cautiously turned his head towards the source of the familiar voice and glanced across the still form of the chief engineer, meeting his captain's questioning look. He shook his head to clear it, and immediately wished he hadn't bothered. Surprised to find that it was still attached to his neck, he risked a few more words.

"Captain Archer…sir, are you alright?"

Jon gave a soft chuckle in spite of their situation. Malcolm's response was so typical of his English reserve, always concerned for others over his own well-being, and uncomfortable with anyone showing him compassion.

"I'll survive, Malcolm. I don't think anything's broken. How about you?"

Malcolm tentatively flexed his limbs before replying. "The same, Captain. I don't think there's any serious damage. I wonder why the commander isn't round, yet."

"Trip's always a bit slow to come round after being knocked out. Give him time."

Malcolm nodded his head, carefully, remembering that the last time he'd moved too vigorously, his head had nearly come off.

"Yes, if I recall on Risa…" he stopped, horrified that in his woozy state he'd been about to disclose something that neither he nor Trip wanted as common knowledge, of how they'd been lured into a basement by two lovely female aliens who'd morphed into ugly males and mugged them. They had never explained to the crew exactly why they'd returned to Enterprise with serious headaches and no clothes apart from their regulation underwear. Rumours and speculation had bounced around the ship for too many a day. He looked cautiously at the captain's face, but if he had picked up on the half sentence, he wasn't showing it. Malcolm reached out with his left leg and managed to touch Trip's right foot.

"Commander, waken up."

Both men smiled in relief at the responding soft moan, but it took several minutes of encouragement before the engineer's blue eyes were fully open.

"Aw no, not again!"

"Welcome back, Trip. How do you feel?"

"Just great, Cap'n. What happened, did we crash the shuttle?" Trip closed his eyes in pain as he attempted to shift to a more comfortable position. 

Malcolm tried to recall the events before they'd blacked out. "The last thing I remember was feeling as if my head was about to explode. They must have hit us with a sonic grenade." A sudden realisation struck him. "Sir, Ensign Sato's not here."

Jon looked into the darkened corners of their cell before accepting that the words were accurate.

"Ok, that might be a good thing, although I'd rather we were all together. If she's been lucky, she'll have been spared the beating. Trip, have you anything broken?"

Trip had been squirming in an attempt to ease his aching body, his bottom lip clenched between his teeth.

"Ya remember how I busted my ribs on that last away mission? Well, no prizes for guessin' where I'm hurtin' most."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Phlox checked the chronometer in the shuttle for at least the sixth time since T'Pol had left. He'd watched, covertly, as she had entered the building behind the chancellor, but as she hadn't returned, he speculated that things had gone pear-shaped, as his human crewmates were fond of saying.

He gathered the hooded cloak around him, and clutching his med kit, stepped out into the still evening air. Considering his options, he decided against a frontal approach of the chancellor's residence, favouring instead, to circumvent around the perimeter, taking special note of the barred windows.

_'Of course, that could be a simple defensive protection against robbery, but somehow I think not!' _he communed with himself.

Stepping cautiously up to the first window, he reached through the bars and rubbed the grimy glass just enough to let him see inside. The room was currently occupied by a dozen or more males, most likely indigenous to the region, all manacled by one wrist, whilst with their free hand they tore at the food before them. Phlox thought of wild animals as he watched, fascinated. These men didn't match the civilised picture of modern day Solan, seeming much more like the planet's barbarian past.

Hearing footsteps, Phlox shrank into the shadows, his heart beating a tattoo against his ribs. He wasn't really cut out for this type of skulking around, but he was determined to discover the fate of the missing crew. As the footsteps faded, he moved stealthily on to the next window, peering cautiously in. The three male occupants of the room wore slightly grubby, but still recognisable Starfleet uniforms.

"Ah, Captain, gentlemen, excellent. And now I need to locate the ladies."

Moving further around the building, Phlox located a third barred window. This one was much higher up, and he had to strain to be able to see in, but when he managed, he was relieved to see T'Pol and Hoshi unfettered and unharmed.

"What do you think you're doing?" the voice behind him startled him and he almost stumbled. Thinking quickly, he turned, wearing his most disarming smile.

"I was just curious to know what lay behind such a well-fortified window." He had to squint against the bright light being shone directly into his face.

The demanding voice continued, the tone no kinder. "Who are you and where are you from?"

"I'm Phlox and I'm a Denobulan," he spoke truthfully. 

"We have no contact with your planet. What do you want here? Bring him inside, the Chancellor will want to question him."

Phlox's heart sank as his arms were enthusiastically seized and he found himself being marched through the very door the sub-commander had disappeared into. But he kept his slightly unnerving smile plastered to his face, relieved that as yet, no-one had thought to search amongst the shrubbery under the first window. If they had, they'd have found his Starfleet issue communicator, med kit and phase pistol.

Chancellor Ardl inspected the newcomer with barely concealed mistrust. He looked questioningly at the perimeter guards who had brought the fellow in.

"What's this about?"

"We found him trying to see through the windows, Chancellor. He claims he's a Denobulan."

"The name's Phlox," the doctor acted the genial innocent, extending his hand. Ardl ignored the gesture.

"Well, friend Phlox, unless you can give me a satisfactory answer as to why you wanted to see through the window, you'll get the opportunity to view the room from the inside."

Phlox's mind had been whirling with plausible excuses during the short walk through the house. He had always thought that honesty was the best policy; the more lies you told, the better memory you needed to have to stop from tripping over them.

"Forgive me, I'm a collector of exotic pets. Naturally, when I saw the barred windows, my curiosity got the better of me. I hadn't been able to reach the window and was just on the point of looking for something to raise me higher when your men interrupted me. So tell me, what exciting creatures do you have that you need to lock them up? Perhaps we could do a trade. I've some **_very_** interesting items in my collection, and really, no harm's done."

The senior guard had listened to the stranger's explanation, his instinct telling him that the man wasn't being entirely honest. He stepped up to speak quietly into the chancellor's ear.

"I can't be sure, Chancellor, but I'd swear he's lying. I'd say he got a good look inside that room."

"Let's not take any chances. Put him in with the three men. He may or may not be from the ship, but until I know differently, he is not to be trusted."

Phlox found himself surrounded by burly guards, the very idea of him being a threat mildly amusing, even under the present awkward circumstances. The escort stopped before a hermetically sealed door, and a card was swiped through the lock to open it. He found himself propelled into the room and the door was quickly sealed behind him.

Through the gloom of twilight, the three officers could still make out the shape of their CMO. Jon found his voice first.

"What are **_you_** doing** here?"**

"Ah, I'm afraid I'm not cut out for this cloak and dagger stuff, Captain. I travelled down with the sub-commander…"

"T'Pol's here?" Trip interrupted.

"Indeed, Commander, just next door with Ensign Sato, to be exact. I must say they are in better condition than all of you." He tut-tutted as he looked from one to the other. These three men were his most commonly recurring patients, and it seemed that once again they were in need of his ministrations. "Apart from the obvious bruises, are any of you injured?"

"Trip's ribs are hurting, Doc. Is there anything you can do for him?"

Phlox crossed to kneel in front of the engineer and gently prodded his ribcage with exploring fingers. He watched his patient's face for an indication of where the injury was, and spotted the almost imperceptible tightening of Trip's eyes before he stifled a gasp.

"The same place as the last time, Commander. What am I going to do with you? I'm afraid there's nothing I can give you apart from medical advice: get plenty of rest and avoid all strenuous activity for the next seven days."

TBC


	6. chapter six

CHAPTER SIX

Crewman Johnson noticed a light flashing on the communications console.

"Ensign, there seems to be a pre-recorded message here for you. It's from the sub-commander."

Travis Mayweather looked up in surprise from his seat at the helm.

"Ok, maybe we'll find out what's going on, now. Go ahead and play it."

The monotone voice of the young Vulcan drifted out across the bridge. "The away team have been taken captive, by force, and further violence was threatened against them unless I presented myself on the planet. I understand that this is a trap, set for unknown reasons, and Dr Phlox has insisted on accompanying me. In the likely event that you do not hear from either of us, you are to assume that we, too, are captive. Under no circumstances are you to attempt to transport to the surface. Remain in standard orbit and notify Starfleet. The safety of the ship is now your paramount responsibility."

Travis was a very worried young man. All of the senior bridge crew were now on Solan. He had been left in charge of the ship from time to time, but no amount of Starfleet simulations had prepared him for this scenario. He felt desperately in need of some experienced advice. He called his relief to take over at the helm. Making his way to the captain's ready room, he placed a call through to Admiral Forrest, back on earth.

"So you see, Admiral, we've no way of contacting them, and no way of knowing whether they need any help. It's been four hours since the sub-commander left, and now I know that Dr Phlox went with her, although it would have been nice if they'd told me that, earlier." He tried to hide the sense of exclusion he felt.

"Ok son, I'll see what I can do from here. It's curious, though, the way they requested that the sub-commander remain on board, and then she specifically made a point of ignoring that request. That's a most un-Vulcan action, even by her standards. Remain in standard orbit, Ensign, and notify me of any developments. I'll get back to you when I've something to tell you. Forrest out."

The link was severed and Travis gazed unseeingly at the blank screen, worried beyond measure for the safety of his friends.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Admiral Forrest was as good as his word, placing the call back to Enterprise within the hour. Travis was occupying the captain's chair, feeling totally inadequate for the task.

"A Vulcan starship, the Vellos, is a ¼ light year from your position. Captain Lar has agreed to give assistance. They'll rendezvous with you in about two days if they push up to high warp. That's the best I can do for you, Ensign."

"Thanks a lot, Admiral. It's better than nothing." Travis felt a little of the pressure lift from his young shoulders.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The four men looked at the guards standing before them with apprehension. Somehow, they didn't believe they were about to be released. One of the guards pressed a button on the hand device he held, and the manacles sprang open suddenly, releasing the prisoners' weary arms. Trip bit his lip to stifle the gasp as the unexpected movement brought pain to his injured ribs.

"Where are you taking us?" Jon asked.

"Chancellor Ardl wants to see you."

The three officers struggled to their feet, and together with Phlox, they were ushered along to the chancellor's room. The man seemed in remarkably good spirits.

"So, Captain, how do you like my hospitality?"

"I've had better. I think you owe us an explanation, Chancellor."

"All in good time. But first, tell me how you know this gentleman?" he indicated Phlox, standing slightly behind the three officers.

Jon wondered if Ardl was toying with them, if he really didn't know the connection, but if Phlox's identity was their only ace to play, he wasn't about to reveal his hand. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I've no idea. I thought he was one of your men. He was put in with us, but he hasn't been mistreated and he wasn't manacled, so we assumed he was a stool pigeon."

"A very colourful turn of phrase. Do I understand that you think Mr Phlox to be a spy?"

Phlox thought he could add to the illusion. He stepped forward. "As I tried to explain before, I collect exotica, but I'm also an itinerant physician. Although, I must say I've never been treated quite like this before. Most places that I've visited have either welcomed my medical expertise, or ignored it. Is this really how you want the Solanese reputation to be known?"

Ardl regarded the outspoken Denobulan with mild humour. He admired spunk in a man, and this fellow clearly wasn't cowed by being incarcerated.

"Alright, Doctor. We'll take a chance with you, but I'll be watching your every step. One false move and you'll wish you'd never set foot on Solan. And who knows, we may have need of your medical expertise before long…the games are about to begin."

The three officers didn't like the sound of that; it merely confirmed their suspicions that Ardl had something nasty planned for them.

"What exactly will these games entail?" Phlox was genuinely interested.

"Displays of strength, endurance and agility. The best athletes in the land compete for the titles of champions in their chosen sport. These three will be pitted against others, and the survivors live to fight another day. At the end of the tournament, the champions are handsomely rewarded. But don't let me detain you, doctor. You should have no difficulty in procuring lodgement, and don't forget, you're being watched."

Phlox cast a guarded look at his colleagues before being escorted from the room. He was genuinely worried for their continued well-being, but couldn't see how he was going to be able to do anything about it. Now that he was under suspicion, he daren't even attempt to retrieve his communicator. It was fortunate that he'd kept a hypospray in his travelling bag. Although the guards had found it, Ardl hadn't removed it. He felt that it would be much in demand before too long.

"Now, gentlemen," Ardl addressed the others, "I trust you'll put up a good fight? The crowds expect their money's worth."

"What makes ya think we're gonna do anythin' you ask?" Trip demanded belligerently.

"It's very simple, Commander. I have not only the lovely young lady who travelled here with you, but also a certain Vulcan of your acquaintance. You really don't want to know what will happen to them if you fail to co-operate. Take them to the arena."


	7. chapter seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

T'Pol and Hoshi had been given food and water, and T'Pol had been surprised to find that her own refreshments were vegetarian. Hoshi fell on the food voraciously, having had nothing for more than 14 hours. T'Pol was altogether more suspicious of the kindness shown.

"I don't think it would be wise to consume the food, Ensign."

Hoshi stopped with her mouth full, her eyes widening in alarm. She swallowed nervously as she looked at the tasty morsels set before her.

"D-do you think it's poisoned?"

"Not necessarily, but it may well be drugged. There would be no logic in attempting to poison us. If they wanted us dead, I suspect we would already be so. However, they may have an alternative purpose for keeping us detained."

"But when we arrived yesterday, they gave us lovely food, and it was fine. I'm really hungry, Sub-Commander; do you really think it might be drugged?"

"I have no way of knowing for certain, Ensign, but for myself, I will take only the water. Vulcans can survive without food for many days. If you must eat, try to avoid the meat."

Hoshi stared at the plate as if expecting it to bite her, but she really was almost faint with hunger. Avoiding the meat, she nibbled cautiously on the vegetables. T'Pol sniffed delicately at the pitcher of water before pouring them both a glass each. It tasted as water should and she drank deeply, enjoying the sensation of the cold liquid quenching her thirst.

She was concerned for their well-being, especially that of the captain and her fellow officers. For herself, she had a feeling of unease as she thought back over the conversation she had had with Ardl and Gil. They had spoken of 'breaking' her, and no matter what way she addressed the phrase, it still filled her with foreboding. Drinking some more water, she settled into a comfortable yoga position, and resolved to meditate. 

Hoshi looked on, enviously. "Sub-Commander, do you think you could teach me that? I think if I don't get something to help me relax, I'm going to explode."

T'Pol regarded the nervous human sharing her cell. "Please sit, Ensign Sato. The thought of being in a confined space with an exploding companion is undesirable."

Hoshi looked at her in awe. "That was a joke, wasn't it?"

"Indeed, Ensign. But please sit and I will teach you the rudiments of relaxation. We must endeavour to remain calm, for we don't know what lies ahead."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Six large, angry men had been brought out from the first cell and were armed with clubs and shields. Their wrists were still manacled, awaiting the arrival of their opponents. The assembled crowd hissed and bayed for the spectacle to begin, too much time was wasting. The guards looked at each other grimly.

"A wild bunch in today. Reckon they'll not be satisfied unless there's blood spilled, and soon."

A second guard agreed. "The newcomers haven't been fed. What chance will they stand against these six?"

"That's not for us to worry about. We should just be glad it's not us, and you know what happens around here if you step out of line. Don't go getting a conscience; it's not good for your health." 

More guards entered the arena, bringing with them the three Enterprise officers. Their shackles were removed and they were handed the same types of weapons.

"Put up a good show, humans. Just remember, the chancellor has your women."

Violent shoves sent them propelled towards the centre of the arena, as their guards made a delicate withdrawal to the edge, close enough to deter any idea of escape. The crowd sensed the commencement of the entertainment and whooped as one. The three men looked incredulously at the scene before them, sensing the primal blood lust of not only the crowd, but also of their six opponents. Jon looked in concern at Trip, trying to stand erect, but obviously in some discomfort.

"Stay between Malcolm and me, we'll try to shield you as much as possible." 

"Watch your own back, Cap'n; I'm not an invalid, yet!"

Jon knew his friend's pride wouldn't let him stay back, but the man couldn't hide the wince of pain that holding the heavy club was causing. They stood with their backs towards each other as the six men were released from their restraints.

"These guys could give the Suliban a run for their money. What I wouldn't give for a phaser right about now," Trip voiced what they were all thinking.

They took up a defensive stance as the fighting began. Their opponents seemed in a hurry to complete the exercise as they came in fast, cudgels swinging wildly. 

Malcolm, ever the tactician, recognised that this wasn't a match against men with skills as fighters, but really just the survival of the fittest. For all their brute strength, the Solanese could be beaten, with a little careful manoeuvring. 

He swung low, bashing the knees of his first attacker, successfully avoiding the swinging club. The second man had more success, catching him with a numbing blow to his left shoulder. If he hadn't had his hand looped through the strap of the shield, Malcolm would have dropped it from his suddenly nerveless fingers. As it was, it might be some time before he got any feeling back into his arm, anyway. 

The pain changed his stance to offensive as rage grew within him at the injustice they were facing. As an aggressor, he was smaller and quicker than either of his two adversaries and nipped in below their cudgels, delivering crippling body blows to each man's unprotected solar plexus. They toppled to the ground, completely winded.

He turned to see how his comrades were fairing: Jon had the fighting instincts of an alley cat and was doing quite well, considering the odds. He had felled one of his opponents and was holding the other off with his battered shield. Malcolm finished the struggle with a blow to the man's unprotected skull, and then whirled to the commander's side.

Trip's breathing, like their own, was laboured and his face was pale in spite of their exertions. Blood flowed freely from his left eyebrow and his club had fallen from fingers which refused to work. A blow to his shoulder drove him to his knees and he tensed himself for the final lowering of the club that would herald the end. He was startled, therefore, to see his two attackers falling, one after the other, to the earth on either side of him as Jon and Malcolm came to his aid. He tried to struggle to his feet, but Jon placed an unsteady hand on his shoulder.

"Stay down, Trip, catch your breath. We don't know if that's the end, yet," he whispered urgently in his friend's ear. Trip didn't need a second telling; he wasn't sure if he could stand, anyway.

The three men watched warily as guards approached and gathered up the clubs and shields. Other guards surrounded them as the fallen six were dragged from the arena. Ardl addressed the humans from his seat on a raised dais.

"Very impressive, gentlemen. I see you know how to defend yourselves. You'll make worthy opponents for your next challenge, but that's not just yet. You can rest and eat. Tomorrow, or the next day, I'll have a surprise for you."

"I want to see Sub-Commander T'Pol and Ensign Sato," Jon demanded, as he and Malcolm helped Trip to his feet.

The engineer swayed alarmingly between them and Malcolm barely managed to keep him upright as his own left arm wasn't co-operating.

"In good time, Captain. For now, be happy that you've all survived the first round. Take them back to their cell, but leave them unchained and feed them."

The three weary officers trudged out of the arena as six more Solanese were being brought in and prepared for battle in an attempt to satisfy the lust of the crowd. During their own fight, Malcolm had barely heard the crowd, but he was sure they'd been howling for blood. The roars faded into the distance as they were led back to their cell, and as the door closed behind them, each man sank exhaustedly to the floor. 

TBC


	8. chapter eight

A/N     sorry that this is a bit short…just a scene-filler really. Chapter 9 will be along

            before you know it. Thanks for all the reviews. You're all wonderful people.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Phlox had been in the arena, nauseated by the spectacle before him. He felt every blow that landed on his officers, but it had been the savagery of those around him which had sickened him the most, and he was more than a little apprehensive of the outcome of this particular away mission.

Even though he was more than certain that he was under constant supervision, he knew he simply had to risk contacting the ship, and for that, he would need to retrieve his communicator, if it was still where he'd left it. 

He waited until the day's spectacle was over, and mingling with the crowd, he made his way eventually to where he'd hidden the equipment. Looking round for signs of anyone taking more than a passing interest in his actions, he slipped between the bushes. With his heart pounding so loudly he wouldn't have been surprised if it was actually audible to others, he crouched in the shrubbery, quietly activating the communicator.

"Phlox to Enterprise." His voice was barely a whisper.

"Doc! Boy, am I glad to hear your voice. Where are you?" Travis practically shouted his reply.

"I'm on the planet surface, trying to keep an eye on our people, Ensign. Are you able to get a lock on any of us?"

"Negative, Doctor. Their biosigns are just lost in so many that we can't isolate them. Doc, can't you speak up, I can barely hear you?"

"I'd really rather not, Mr Mayweather. I've seen how the others have been treated, and I'd really like to avoid that, if at all possible. And please keep your own voice down."

Travis dropped his voice to a stage whisper. "What about Hoshi and the Sub-Commander? Have they received the same treatment?"

"I haven't seen them today, but from what I could determine last night, they were unharmed. But I'm very worried about Captain Archer, the commander and Lt Reed. They were forced to take part in a very violent confrontation, and something tells me it's not over, yet. Have you an idea of how to rescue them?"

"I contacted the Admiral and filled him in as best I could. He's calling in a few Vulcan favours, but their nearest ship can't get here until the day after tomorrow. Can our people hold out that long?"

Phlox sighed. "They're just going to have to, aren't they?"

*~*~*~*~*~*

That morning, Hoshi had wakened cold, thirsty and more than a little scared. Instantly, she recalled their predicament and looked at her cellmate for some encouragement.

T'Pol sat in the lotus position, her eyes closed as she attempted to meditate. Hoshi marvelled at the Vulcan's ability to rise above the stress of the situation. The previous evening, the sub-commander had taught her a relaxation method, which had greatly helped. She recalled, too, how T'Pol had helped her overcome a panic attack on an alien vessel. How she longed for another lesson, now.

T'Pol's eyes opened suddenly, catching Hoshi off guard, watching her. The young ensign blushed under her senior officer's unwavering gaze. Something about the way the sub-commander was looking at her unsettled Hoshi.

_'Is it my imagination, or does she seem **really** angry about something?' _she asked herself.

"Sub-Commander, is everything alright?"

"Does everything appear to be alright, Ensign? Your question is illogical, be quiet!"

Hoshi's cheeks burned with embarrassment at the rebuke. She'd never heard T'Pol speak so sharply before, not even to Commander Tucker, and they often had very public arguments. 

Mumbling an apology, she found a fresh pitcher of water had been placed just inside the door. Pouring out several glasses, she handed one to T'Pol, who snatched it and drank it greedily, little rivulets running down from the corners of her mouth. This worried Hoshi even more, as the normally fastidious Vulcan wouldn't usually allow herself to be seen as anything less than perfect.

_'Boy, is she acting weird today? I think I'll just stay in the corner and say nothing to provoke her.'_

T'Pol rose from her yoga position and replenished her empty glass. She regarded the liquid with enjoyment; she'd always found the simple refreshment of water very satisfying, but this was better than any water she'd ever tasted, and she couldn't seem to slake her thirst. Seizing the pitcher, she retreated to her own corner, jealously guarding her trophy.

_'Don't you worry, Sub-Commander, I'm **so** not going to take any more of your water. I'd rather die first.'_ Hoshi shrank as far into the opposite corner as she could, a survival instinct telling her that now was just not a good time to ask about relaxation.

TBC

  



	9. chapter nine

CHAPTER NINE

"I'll never look at a gladiator movie in the same way, again," Trip moaned and Jon and Malcolm nodded wearily in agreement.

They'd been sitting on the cold floor now, in relative silence, for one hour, recouping their strength, such as it was. The guards had brought them food and water, but they'd been too weary to even think of eating.

Jon cast an inspecting eye over his companions. Malcolm was rubbing absentmindedly at his left shoulder, flexing the fingers of his left hand. He'd gathered quite a few more bruises, notably around his cheekbones, but overall, seemed to be bearing up.

Trip seemed lost in thought, one side of his bruised face masked in dried blood. His right hand lay cradled in his lap and until his words just then, he hadn't moved since they'd been returned to their cell.

"Ok, so how are we doing, guys?" Jon asked, anxious to lift the gloom.

"I'm alright, sir, thank you. How are you?" Malcolm replied, less than accurately. If he was honest, he hurt a great deal, but ever the stoic, he wasn't about to complain.

Jon had to smile at Malcolm's typical response. "Oh, I've been better, but nothing I can't live with…Trip?"

The engineer's chin came up slowly from his chest as he struggled to give a neutral response. "I'm ok…just wishin' we knew what was happenin' with T'Pol and Hosh."

Jon suspected that Trip was far from ok, but he didn't press the matter. He knew his friend too well, and once Trip had made up his mind not to speak about something, nothing other than a direct order would shift him, and the time for those wasn't here, yet. 

Jon rose painfully to his feet and walked to the door, rapping on it loudly until one of the guards shouted at him from the other side, telling him to be quiet.

"I want to see Chancellor Ardl."

"He's too busy to see the likes of you. Now shut up or you'll be put back into your restraints."

Jon sat down again, frustrated, but not surprised. He'd done his best, but hadn't really expected to get to see anyone. He sat quietly, speculating as to what Phlox might be up to.

*~*~*~*~*~*

At that precise moment, Enterprise's medical officer was having another audience with the chancellor. Phlox knew he'd been fortunate not to have been caught when speaking with Ensign Mayweather, but now that he was once again facing their enemy, his breathing quickened. He thought to defuse the situation by praising the chancellor; very few hosts failed to react favourably to compliments. 

"That was a quite amazing spectacle today. I haven't seen displays of such raw aggression in a very long time. Denobulans are quite passive in contrast; we reserve our strengths for the marital chambers: having more than one wife can be …very demanding."

Ardl guffawed heartily. "I knew there was something about you that I could relate to…the appreciation of the female form. I've recently acquired a rather exotic example…would you like to meet her?"

Phlox suspected he already knew the exotic female, but he nodded anyway. Anything else would have aroused suspicion. He just hoped that whichever Enterprise officer was brought into the room would understand his subterfuge and play along. He heard Ardl speaking to an aide.

"Bring the human female."

A few moments later, the door opened and a very frightened Ensign Sato was ushered into their presence. Phlox's heart went out to the young woman; she looked so vulnerable, and he knew that Hoshi still held herself in low esteem. This little experience wasn't going to do her any good, at all. He took the initiative, springing to his feet.

"What an enchanting young woman. I believe she's the same species as those men you have. Did you get her from the same place, and are there any more?" He gave Hoshi an audacious leer, playing the role of collector of exotica.

Hoshi's eyes widened at the out of character attitude of her friend, and then understanding dawned. She played along, with an imperceptible pause.

"Get away from me, creep!"

Ardl laughed at her spirit; even after refusing the food that had been provided that day, she still had a lot of spunk in her. He'd enjoy breaking that spirit.

"Now, now, my dear, that's no way to address your friend."

Hoshi put on a wonderfully perplexed expression as she turned to Ardl. "My what? I don't know this person, and I certainly don't want to."

The chancellor watched the interplay between them, almost certain that the man and woman knew each other, but lacking enough evidence to prove it.

"I'd like to see the captain and the others." Hoshi spoke, surprised at her forthrightness.

Ardl nodded. "Yes, I don't see why not. They're probably wondering what I've done with you, and they did perform well today. Doctor, why don't you come along too? I promised to have their injuries attended to, and completely forgot about it. I'm not an animal, you know."

"Yeah, not much!" Hoshi retorted. She was increasingly surprised by how verbal she had become. Although she'd been playing along with Phlox's ruse, she'd been startled at how easily the insult had rolled off her tongue, and now she was giving cheek to Ardl as well.

_'I'd better guard my tongue or it'll get me into trouble,'_ she silently admonished herself.

They were lead through the corridors until they reached the appropriate door, where Hoshi and Phlox were ushered inside. Hoshi's exclamation of concern when she saw her senior officers couldn't be suppressed.

Ardl spoke as he watched the young woman's troubled face. "I'll leave you together for a while. It'll encourage you to put on another good show tomorrow, gentlemen."

Jon struggled to his feet and addressed their captor. "My men need medical attention; you promised that you'd give us that, at least. And I demand to see Sub-Commander T'Pol."

Ardl looked down his nose at the human. "The doctor will tend to your injuries. As for the Vulcan, you're in no position to be making demands. Be grateful that you're alive; in here, situations can change like shifting sand. I'll be the one to decide when and if you see your comrade."

As Ardl and the guards exited the room, Phlox opened his med kit and started preparing hyposprays. He knelt in front of the captain, first.

"You've lost a tooth, Captain, but nothing I can't fix once we're safely back on board. Apart from that and a few bumps and bruises, you're doing quite well."

Jon nodded wearily, more concerned for the others than himself. Phlox moved to Malcolm, who was sitting next to the captain.

"Now, Lieutenant, let's have a look at that shoulder you're favouring." With some difficulty, he managed to ease Malcolm's uniform down off one shoulder, revealing a livid bruise.

"That must hurt! I imagine your arm's been quite numb for a while. There'll be some residual nerve damage, but with physical therapy, that will resolve itself. And the bruising to your face is quite spectacular. This will ease your pain." He administered the analgesic.

Malcolm nodded his thanks, embarrassed at being the centre of attention, and of being examined in front of Hoshi. It went against his upbringing to show any sign of weakness, especially in the presence of the fairer sex.

Phlox had moved on to examine Trip. "How are the ribs, Commander?"

"No worse, no better," he replied, enigmatically. "I guess they're just bruised, after all."

Phlox touched the engineer's forehead with exploring fingers. "You've a nasty gash above your eyebrow, but I've nothing with which to repair it. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Nah, just sore everywhere."

The captain listened to his friend's terse replies, and waited for him to speak by his own volition, but when he didn't, Jon spoke for him.

"Trip, let the Doc take a look at your arm." 

Trip looked sharply at the captain. He'd tried to hide the fact that the pain in his arm was driving him crazy, but something had given him away. He shook his head, determined not to be the weak link.

"There's nothin' wrong with it, it just took a bang. Probably just the nerve, like Malcolm's."

Phlox smiled gently as he reached for Trip's right hand. "Why don't you leave the diagnosing to me, Commander?"

As he prepared to push back Trip's uniform sleeve, red hot needles of agony shot through the engineer's arm.

"No! Leave it, please," he begged, almost whimpering.

Phlox took pity on him and gently returned the hand to Trip's lap. "Ok, Commander, I think we all know it's broken. The examination can wait until we're in sickbay. I'm giving you a stronger dose of analgesia, but it'll most likely make you sleep."

Phlox rose to his feet once his ministrations were done, regarding his officers with concern. "Gentlemen, I wish there was more that I could do for you."

"Thanks, Doc, you've done all you can. It's important that you stay free, so don't let Ardl see your concern or he'll be suspicious. Hoshi, are you ok?" Jon looked at the young Ensign's tearful face as he now stood beside her. 

She nodded her head. "I'm fine, sir, just **really** angry. I almost had a go at Ardl back there. And when I look at all of you, it makes my blood boil."

Trip's drowsy voice came from the floor. "Hey, Hosh, don't fret. Come down here an' tell us how T'Pol's doin'."

She crossed and sat between him and Malcolm, the worry evident on her sweet young face.

"I don't think she's very well…no, not like any of you, we haven't been touched, but she'd acting a bit strange…well, weird actually. She nearly took my nose off this morning, and her eyes seem really wild. I know she's been trying to meditate, but something tells me it's not working."

"Doc, do you think you can get to see her?" Jon asked.

"On what grounds, Captain? Ostensibly, I don't know any of you, and to ask to see the sub-commander might arouse suspicion, especially as Ensign Sato says they're unharmed. Vulcans resent unsolicited help, and we must trust that if anything **is ailing the sub-commander, she can control it until help arrives."**

TBC


	10. chapter ten

CHAPTER TEN

T'Pol didn't know what was ailing her, but the fact was that something was most definitely amiss. She had been annoyed with herself for having lost her temper with Ensign Sato that morning. It wasn't anything new to have one of these illogical humans ask a foolish question, but usually she ignored the banality of it all. 

Today was different. Today, she felt an almost uncontrollable urge to scream, to lash out and…hit something. This alarmed her more than she cared for, as she'd always had such control over her emotions. Now that control was slipping from her grasp and she didn't know why. 

She drank thirstily from the pitcher of soothing, refreshing water, and wondered briefly where Sato had been taken. When the guard had come for her, T'Pol hadn't cared enough to attempt to prevent it. She'd sat, lethargically, in her corner, jealously guarding her supply of water, and if the guard had smirked at her, she didn't notice.

A sudden flash of memory broke through her haze and she remembered that the captain and the others were prisoners, and anger stirred in her belly. How dare this arrogant chancellor imprison them all like animals? He would have to be taught some manners.

Her sharp hearing detected footsteps approaching the door, and she rose from her squat to stand behind the closed door. Hoshi was being returned to her cell and was ushered into the room by one of the guards. T'Pol's hand scythed down onto his unprotected neck, felling him with a single blow. The violent act felt good to her raw nerves, much more satisfying than a Vulcan nerve pinch. Hoshi cried out in surprise as Ardl stepped up behind T'Pol and stunned her with a phaser.

He spoke down to her crumpled form. "Impressive progress, Sub-commander, I think you're just about ready." He turned to the terrified woman in front of him. "Hoshi, my dear, you'll enjoy tomorrow, lots of fresh air, good company…and a fight to the death."

He left Hoshi stooping over T'Pol's unconscious body, and as one door was locked, another was opened. He stepped into the cell as Jon looked up.

"Today's 'entertainment' was hardly what I'd call 'games'. That was sheer barbarism out there, not sporting achievements." Jon's face was livid with anger.

Ardl nodded, grinning. "It may not have proved very entertaining to you, Captain, but if you'd listened to the people, you'd have known that I keep them happy, just the right side of open aggression. Sporting greatness was our way for a while, but there were those amongst us who hankered after the old ways, of luring the unsuspecting to our games, and having them provide our fun. It's so much less effort, don't you agree?"

"Is that what you've planned for the sub-commander?" Malcolm spoke cautiously, wary of antagonising the chancellor.

"All in good time, gentlemen. For now, rest and recover from your exertions. I must admit that you fared better than I'd expected."

Jon was through with polite conversation. "I want to see T'Pol. Where is she?"

Ardl's face took on an air of innocence as he spoke truthfully. "She's right across the hall, with Miss Sato. She's…sleeping at present, but quite alright, I assure you."

"I want to see her for myself, or let that doctor who treated us see her."

"There's really no need, and in good time you'll all be together again, believe me."

Ardl looked perplexedly at Trip's still form, lying quietly on his side, taking no part in proceedings.

"What's wrong with Commander Tucker? I expected his usual amusing threats of what he was going to do to me, etcetera, and etcetera."

Jon hoped Ardl wouldn't insist on rousing the engineer; Trip had passed out from the narcotics Phlox had given him, his face white with pain. In an attempt to deflect the chancellor's attention, he tried to engage him in conversation about their immediate future.

"He's just tired, after today. Can you blame him? So, what surprises have you got in store for us tomorrow? More fun and games to satisfy your blood lust?"

Ardl slowly raised his gaze from the man on the floor. "Yes, Captain, more of the same, because you all put on such a good show today. You're our peoples' new champions, and they won't be satisfied unless you put in a repeat performance."

"Why such an uneven match?" Malcolm asked, ever the tactician. "Surely one-to-one combat would be fairer, and of more interest?"

"Newcomers have to survive the opening round, in order to prove themselves. Today, you did, and so tomorrow the odds will be slightly different. Instead of fighting three against six, it will be four against six. And for Commander Tucker's sake, I hope he's up to putting on a show. We don't carry dead weights around here…either he fights, or he's retired…permanently. Sleep well, gentlemen."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Trip wakened painfully to the harsh light of morning. He was stiff and cold and more than a little cheesed off with their hospitality.

"I think we should demand our money back, this place isn't all the brochure cracked it out to be," he muttered, trying to sit without jarring his arm. His ribs didn't feel too good, either.

"How are you feeling, Commander?" Malcolm crossed to crouch in front of him. Trip looked at his friend's own collection of bruises.

"About as good as you look, Malcolm. This has been **_some_ party. Did I miss anything last night?"**

Jon spoke from the window where he'd been trying to see out. "Our genial host stopped by, made some comment about there being four of us today. Probably forced some poor sap into fighting on our side. How's your arm?"

Trip didn't even attempt to flex his fingers; the pain was enough to tell him everything he wanted to know.

"Not so good. I'll be ok with the left, but the right's not gonna work. Maybe I'll just 'phone in sick."

"Wish you could, Commander, but they don't do sick leave around here. Just don't let Ardl see that you're hurting. He has a rather permanent retirement package for anyone not up to scratch."

"Charmin'! Ok, I guess I'm goin' without a shield, then. I can only hold one thing, an' if I've gotta fight…"

"Stay between Malcolm and me, we'll try to protect you as much as we can. I just wish they'd let us see T'Pol."

"Yeah, somethin's queer about the way he got her down here. D'ya think she's ok, Cap'n?"

Jon shook his head, words being merely empty platitudes.

They all looked up as the door opened and the guards signalled for them to stand.

"What, no last meal for the condemned men?" Trip asked as he struggled to his feet.

"You had that last night. Today, if you want to eat, you have to win."

The three men were shoved onwards towards the arena. They could see another prisoner being held, presumably restrained like they had been, before, but he was surrounded by guards, and the hood over his head seemed cruelly excessive.

"He must be very violent if he needs all that security around him. Sure hope he's the one fighting **_with_ us," Jon mused, as they were handed their clubs and shields.**

Trip reached his left hand out for the club and ignored the proffered shield. "Nah, you keep it, I got one of those yesterday," he grinned, giving off a bravura he certainly didn't feel. He had a bad feeling about today; somebody wearing hob-nailed boots was walking over his grave, and not paying due respect!

A fanfare brought the roar of the crowd to silence and all eyes swivelled to where Ardl stood to address them.

"Citizens, today is a special occasion. For too long we've nursed an unresolved hatred against an unseen foe from our history. We've let it eat away at us, with no opportunity to do anything about it. These three humans unwittingly gave us that opportunity. Observe…"

At his signal, the hooded prisoner was unveiled and the guards stepped back to let everyone see a shapely female form.

"**_T'Pol_**!"

The name fell from four pairs of lips. The three officers stood, aghast, taking in the almost feral look in the Vulcan's eyes. Her hair was unkempt, her face smudged with grime; but it was her eyes which sent a chill into their hearts. This wasn't the calm, oh so in-control Science officer they knew.

'_I always wanted to see her control slip, but not like this,' _Trip sighed to himself.

The fourth pair of lips to gasp her name belonged to Hoshi. She'd been taken from their cell and brought before Ardl, who had leeringly informed her that she was to be his companion during the spectacle.

"Don't think so! Get yourself some other arm candy, I'm more particular about who I'm seen with," she'd scoffed, revelling in her new self-assuredness. Ardl had deflated her pride quicker than bursting a balloon.

"Such a feisty little one, but don't forget I've got your friends. Play nice with me and I'll treat them well; play hard to get and you'll not like the results."

So now she found herself forced to be by his side, the very closeness of his body causing the bile to rise in her throat. She hoped the others would understand why she was there, but now, as she looked at the sub-commander, she shivered.

Jon, Trip and Malcolm stood close to each other, looking in dismay at the almost unrecognisable figure of their Vulcan colleague.

"Boy, does she look mad! I'm glad she's on our side," Trip muttered.

"I'm afraid that's not quite accurate, Commander. Technically, she's on our side in as far as she's still a crew member, but T'Pol doesn't know that at present."

The three men whirled at the familiar voice, and took in Phlox's slightly battered, _manacled_ appearance. He was being led towards them by two guards, and as he was being untethered, he gave them an explanation.

"After I left your cell, last night, Ardl had me brought to him. It seems he suspected me all along, but it amused him to give me enough rope, I believe the expression is 'to hang myself'. He's mentally ill, you know, quite the egomaniac. He told me all about how he'd lured the sub-commander here on her own in order to capture her. It seems he's lived for the day when he could get his hands on a Vulcan to experiment on."

"How exactly is he experimenting?" Malcolm asked, worriedly.

"He's added performance-enhancing drugs to the food, for some people. Not, I might hasten to add, for you. But as T'Pol's naturally suspicious nature and vegetarian tastes warned her against the food, he laced their drinking water."

"But why would he want her to have something which might help her to overpower her captors?" Jon wasn't sure if he was following this, correctly.

"It helps them to lose their inhibitions, make them more susceptible to suggestion. In Ensign Sato's case, as she's by nature a pacifist, it made her more daring, vocally. In the case of the sub-commander, it has unleashed her emotions. And now she's pitted against us."

"But surely **_we_** can get through to her?"

"I'm not sure, Captain. Chancellor Ardl has been telling her lies about us to fuel her growing anger. As far as the sub-commander is concerned, her entire family has been wiped out…by us! The emotion unleashed in her heart is that of revenge."

Ardl was speaking again. "Today is a fight to the death. In a delicious irony, the Vulcan is pitted against her crewmates, and will be forced to kill them. Afterwards, when the effects of her conditioning have been withdrawn, she will then have to live with the knowledge that they died by her hand. The guilt will be delicious to observe. Let the entertainment begin!"

TBC


	11. chapter eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The four Enterprise crewmen turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps, to be confronted by five of the angriest men they'd ever had the misfortune to meet. As soon as T'Pol was released, she strode over and joined the five as they gathered their weapons.

Jon looked around him, but the exits were too heavily guarded to make a run for it, and there was always the problem about Hoshi.

"Ok, let's concentrate on staying alive, but try not to hurt T'Pol if you can help it."

"Maybe somebody should have told the sub-commander the rules, Captain," Malcolm muttered. Jon merely nodded resignedly.

"Doctor, do you know how to swing a club?"

"I'd really rather not, Captain. I took an oath to preserve life, not take it."

"Ok then, start by preserving yours and Trip's. He can't hold his shield."

"Stick with me, Doc. I've still got one good arm," Trip muttered grimly.

The four men formed a square with their backs towards each other. Their opponents raised their clubs, the five men grinning wildly as they relished the favourable odds. T'Pol circled slowly, occasionally lunging at the four men, causing them to raise their shields, but never making contact.

"T'Pol, fight it! We're your friends, we haven't hurt anybody. Your family's alright." 

Jon tried to get through to her, but his attention was diverted as a club came whistling towards his head. He brought his shield up in time to divert the blow harmlessly, but the sheer force behind it alarmed him. This wasn't going to be easy, and it certainly wasn't going to be pleasant. Phlox had said that the aliens had been given performance enhancers. What chance did they stand against six normal opponents, never mind five super-aggressive Solanese and one angry, very strong Vulcan? 

He lashed out at two of the advancing men, taking one down with a blow to his head, but the other got inside his defences and caught him a glancing blow to his shoulder. It burned in white-hot pain, but wasn't incapacitating. He whirled on his surprised opponent, driving the man away from the others.

Malcolm watched cautiously as T'Pol seemed to circle towards Trip and Phlox. She'd been assessing her opponents and had obviously noted the weaker pairing, intending to strike there, first.

"Sub-Commander, snap out of it, please," he tried, but she totally ignored him, honing in on the others with but a single thought…to kill.

"Oh crap!" Trip exclaimed, as the Vulcan advanced on him. "T'Pol, I don't wanna hurt ya, so stay back."

Malcolm had to shift his attention away from them as two more of the aliens engaged him in battle. He threw himself into a rolling log, careering into the legs of the startled men. They landed in an untidy tangle of limbs, and Malcolm somewhat unsportingly bounced his club off their heads before they'd time to recover. He caught his breath and glanced quickly at the captain, who was holding off his opponent and doing quite well, even if he was breathing a little heavier than usual. That just left T'Pol and the last of the Solanese facing off against the commander and Phlox.

The doctor held his shield desperately in front of them, as if its very presence could hold back the tides. The alien snorted derisively as he grabbed it and threw it aside.

"Get behind me, doc!" Trip yelled, and Phlox moved, with surprising speed for such a big man, to comply, but his opponent had a different idea. His club descended cruelly onto Phlox's unprotected cranium, and for the Denobulan, the fight was over before it had really begun.

Trip swore silently as he faced T'Pol. She swung her club casually back and forward through a gentle arc, as if daring him to attack her. He knew he couldn't reason with her, but he also knew in his heart that he would find it difficult to bring himself to raise his club against her.

Sensing his hesitation, the other man brought his club round, aiming single-mindedly for the engineer's head. Trip managed to dodge the clearly telegraphed attack, but only partially. A red mist of pain crossed his eyes as the club made devastating contact with his left collar bone. He dropped to his knees, all strength gone, his abused body unable to take any more. His opponent had his club raised to deliver the final blow when T'Pol growled.

"No!"

Hope soared through Trip's weary heart at that single word. Perhaps T'Pol had fought her demons and was even now coming back to them…but the hope was to be short-lived.

"I demand the kill. I have the right!"

"T'Pol, please…" Trip tried.

She stepped up to the fallen engineer and ignored the pleading in his eyes and the quiet, desperate murmuring of her name as she clutched him viciously about the throat. Her strong fingers closed tightly around his windpipe, intent on choking the life from him as easily as squashing an ant. Trip's blood pounded in his ears, blocked in the carotid arteries with nowhere to go, no oxygen getting through to feed his starved body. T'Pol looked on mercilessly as the eyes of the man in her clutches turned up in his head and he collapsed. She didn't halt in her pressure, determined to finish the kill, but her act of revenge was brought suddenly to a halt as Jon brought his own club down onto his First Officer's head.

He fell sobbing onto his knees beside his fallen officers, fearing that they were already dead, that he'd been too late to save the life of his dearest friend. But he couldn't take time now to mourn; he struggled back onto his feet to fight on beside Malcolm.

Ardl watched the scene with growing concern. His anticipated joy at setting the Vulcan to fight against her friends was being eroded by the tenacity of those same friends and their strong sense of self-preservation. He'd assumed from their first conversation that humans were a weak race, having given up combat, but these were tenaciously hanging on to life, ruining his sport. Grabbing Hoshi by the arm, he strode into the centre of the arena. The crowd were still roaring in enjoyment, but he knew it was only a matter of time before things might get **_ugly_**.

Jon and Malcolm were holding off the remaining two Solanese, and Ardl was determined to use Hoshi's presence as his final card. He stopped just short of the fighting, preparing to direct the final outcome of the contest.

Hoshi fought back the tears as she looked at her friends; Phlox lay sprawled face down in the dirt, Trip lay in that crumpled-clothes look that so often indicated loss of life, and T'Pol had fallen with her face to the sky, no longer angry, just calm. She tried to struggle against Ardl's grip, but his strength made her puny attempts laughable.

Ardl opened his mouth to address the protagonists, but stopped, bewildered, as his world started to shimmer and shift. A feeling of nausea and dizziness gripped his stomach and he closed his eyes until the feeling had passed, but when he opened them again, his mouth went dry. They were no longer standing in the middle of the dry, dusty arena, but now stood in an alien place, a room of dull grey walls and metal floor, filled with more Vulcans than he'd ever wanted to meet, all armed to the teeth, and pointing their weapons at him.

TBC


	12. chapter twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jon paced back and forth restlessly, casting concerned glances at the two figures occupying the bio-beds. Of the two, Phlox was the closer to regaining consciousness.

Trip was a mess. He was covered in bruises from head to foot and his right forearm jutted at an abnormal angle, but what drew Jon's attention, every time, were the angry purple and blue marks around his friend's throat; marks from throttling fingers, the fingers of a friend.

The Vulcan doctor addressed him. "Your medial officer is awakening, Captain Archer. He should be thankful that Denobulans have thick skulls."

Jon crossed to beside Phlox's bed as the man struggled to open his eyes.

"Captain? Am I to understand that we actually survived?"

Jon placed a restraining hand on the doctor's shoulder as he attempted to rise.

"Take it easy…remember all the times you tell us that. And yes, we survived, thanks entirely to the timely arrival of Travis and the Vulcans. His urgent request for help to Starfleet was answered in the shape of a Vulcan ship."

Phlox looked around at the alien sickbay, nodding in understanding, wincing slightly as his head reminded him of his recent exploits.

Jon continued the explanation.  "Apparently their transporters are more reliable than ours and they were able to pick up the away team. For good measure, and because he had a hold of Hoshi at the time, they also transported the chancellor, much to his surprise. He's currently languishing in their brig, none too happy with developments. So, after your adventures, how do you feel?"

"A little raw around the edges, Captain, but I'll be fine once my headache disappears. How is everyone else? Did we…lose anyone?" The question petered off, as if Phlox was afraid to voice it out loud.

"Malcolm and I are fine, just the expected bruises. Hoshi will be ok, but she's a bit traumatised, and coming off the drugs they'd been giving her isn't easy. She's been a bit more vocal than the Hoshi we're used to. As for Trip and T'Pol, they haven't regained consciousness yet."

Phlox turned his head and observed the still, battered form of the engineer occupying the next bed. He looked in the other direction, worry creasing his brow.

"I don't see the sub-commander."

"She's in guest quarters at the insistence of Captain Lar. Something to do with respecting her privacy whilst she recovers. I have my suspicions that  they're not too comfortable with having an emotionally volatile Vulcan on board."

Phlox struggled into a sitting position. "I should go and see her, Captain."

"You need to rest as much as anyone else, Doc. And besides, the Vulcans won't let anybody see her. Doctor D'Pac is treating her and assures me that she'll recover, physically, in time."

Phlox's eyebrow rose at the captain's choice of words…physical recovery was, on its own, only part of the package. Anything less than full recovery was unthinkable.

A soft moan from the other bed brought Phlox carefully to his feet, and they looked down at Trip as he struggled back to consciousness. He swallowed painfully, his automatic reaction being to raise his right hand to his throat. The pain from his fractured arm halted him in his tracks and forced his eyes open.

"Easy, Trip. It's over, and you'll be fine," Jon reassured him.

"What…can't talk…" Trip whispered, painfully.

The doctor nodded in sympathetic understanding. "I'm not surprised, Commander. You've suffered quite a bit of trauma to your throat. Hard as it's going to be for you, you're going to have to be quiet to give your voice time to recover. Now that I've recovered, I'll assist Dr D'Pac in setting your fractures."

Phlox lifted the padd on the bedside table and scanned the contents, humming tunelessly.

"Quite an impressive collection, this time, Mr Tucker. Left clavicle, ribs, right radius and ulna, severe bruising over much of your body, not to mention your throat…you're going to be my guest for a few days."

Trip had been trying to ignore Phlox's enthusiastic cataloguing of his injuries, and his eyes widened as he looked around and took in his surroundings. 

"Vulcans! They're everywhere. Cap'n, we been boarded?" Even though it hurt to speak, he couldn't contain his surprise.

Jon chuckled, the first lifting of his spirits in many days. "I'll explain when you're feeling better. Get some rest, Commander."

"You ok, Cap'n?" 

"I'm fine, Trip. Now rest, I gave you a direct order."

"Knowing the commander's lack of co-operation when he's in sickbay, Captain, I believe I'll need to assist him in that whilst I deal with his injuries."

Phlox spoke to one of the Vulcan attendants, who nodded and moved away to prepare a hypospray. He crossed to the weary engineer and pressed it against his neck, and with as careful a sigh as he could manage, Trip let blissful sleep wash over him.

*~*~*~*~*~*

When he wakened some time later, Trip felt only marginally better. A dull ache from his fused fractures reminded him that he couldn't over-exert himself, but his throat had decided to set up a constant reminder of their recent conflict. He felt as if he was recovering from an acute case of quinsy. He looked around and spotted Jon and Phlox talking with a Vulcan doctor. 

'_What was it Jon said about so many Vulcans being on __Enterprise__?'_

"Hey, Cap'n…" he tried to project his voice, but it sounded like a bullfrog with laryngitis.

Jon's face lit up as he grinned, crossing to the bed. "Welcome back, pal. How are you feeling?"

Trip indicated the drably coloured walls. "Don't think much of the re-decoratin', ya should get you're money back." His hoarse whisper was painful to listen to.

Jon looked around at the spartan, but efficiently functional Vulcan sickbay, and smiled at Trip's quizzical expression.

"We're not on Enterprise yet, but I'll be sure to tell Captain Lar that you don't like his taste." He laughed as Trip's brow wrinkled in perplexity. "This is the Vellos; Admiral Forrest sent the cavalry in the shape of our friendly neighbourhood Vulcans and they arrived just in the nick of time. Things had got a little beyond us down there…"

He paused, watching his friend's face to see if he remembered the last moments of the fight. Apparently Trip did, as his bruised eyes widened and he looked around him, searching for someone.

"Where is she?"

Phlox bustled over to join them. "Commander, I really must insist that you rest your voice. How do you expect it to recover if you persist in straining it?"

Trip ignored the doctor. "**Where…is…she?" he repeated, emphasising each word, demanding an answer.**

Phlox sighed in understanding; these humans could be **_so_ stubborn. He looked to the captain to supply the answer.**

"She's under sedation in a private room. Their physician's looking after her and won't let me see her. We'll just have to let him get on with it."

"Will she be ok?"

"Commander, please rest," Phlox tried again.

"Will she?"

Jon looked at the concern in Trip's blue eyes, and spoke truthfully. "I hope to God she will, but we just don't know."

Trip made to rise, fidgeting restlessly. "Doc, when can I get outta here?"

Phlox looked at him in amazement; the man was barely fit to clean his teeth, never mind to be walking about.

"If you behave yourself, I might release you tomorrow. There's nothing to be gained by having you fall onto your face and undoing my handiwork." As Trip made to protest, Phlox held his hand up to silence the engineer. "And if you don't stop talking, I'll have you sedated again."

Trip reluctantly lowered his head back onto the pillow, studiously ignoring the self-satisfied smirk on the doctor's face. If he was honest with himself, he really didn't want to have to move for the next year, but he needed to see T'Pol, to reassure himself that she was going to be alright.

"Ok, I'll be good, but you've gotta promise to keep me posted on how she's doin'. Deal?"

Jon rested his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Deal. Now get that rest or Phlox will have us **_both_ sedated. And I seem to recall not too long ago that you said to take your name off that bed in sickbay, you weren't going to be using it again."**

Trip managed a battered grin. "Vulcan sickbays don't count."

TBC


	13. chapter thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It had been eight hours since their timely rescue, eight hours during which Hoshi had started to relax after her ordeal. She shivered as she thanked God that she hadn't ended up in sickbay like the others. She had enough aggression in her small body to want to pay Ardl a visit in the Vulcan brig and let him know exactly what she thought of him. Instead, she contented herself with bending the ears of Liz Cutler and Travis Mayweather, after she'd caught Travis in the warmest bear-hug he'd enjoyed for some time. Her eyes had shone with hero-worship and although he knew it wouldn't last, he was determined to enjoy it while it did.

 The two ensigns sat open-mouthed as they listened to her tale, shivering, too, as they counted themselves lucky to have avoided this particular away mission.

Malcolm watched from the door of the mess hall. He was amused at Travis's embarrassment, but the boy would probably get a commendation from the captain for having saved their lives, and well-deserved it was, too.

 They had travelled back to Enterprise as soon as Phlox had released them, leaving only the captain, Commander Tucker and the sub-commander still on the Vellos. Hoshi had made straight for some **_real _food, greedily eating at some of her favourites, relishing the fact that she didn't have to fear the consequences, apart from an extra inch or two on her hips.**

The armoury officer moved silently away, content that Hoshi would work off her demons with the help of her friends. As for himself, it was too soon to be able to do that. He was stiff and very sore from their exertions on Solan, but nothing that wouldn't heal with time. He'd politely declined Phlox's offer of sending for some of his more exotic cures, assuring the physician that they were needed for more worthy cases. 

As for talking through his experiences, he didn't feel comfortable unburdening himself to anyone other than Commander Tucker. The charming southerner was the only person on board whom he really considered that kind of friend. And until the engineer was a bit stronger and recovering from his injuries, Malcolm's problems could wait.

So he decided to shower, get something to eat, and perhaps relax with some light reading. The captain had expressly forbidden him from going anywhere near the chancellor. He smiled grimly as he recalled how the captain had relayed the conversation with Captain Lar. The Vulcan High Command had **_requested_ permission to deal with Ardl and the Solanese, and as it had been an act of aggression aimed pointedly at the Vulcans, the captain had agreed. Ardl's fate lay with his sworn enemies. **

'_Poetic justice,'_ Malcolm thought, with uncontrolled satisfaction.

*~*~*~*~*~*

In her private quarters, T'Pol stirred fitfully in her drugged sleep, violent dreams assaulting her emotions. She saw her hands reaching for someone's throat, intending to snuff out their life, and although she could hear her name being spoken, she couldn't make out the person's features. 

The Vulcan physician, Dr D'Pac, sat beside her, making note of anything she muttered, adjusting her medication from time to time. He didn't know the young Vulcan Science officer, but news of a Vulcan who voluntarily lived aboard a human vessel had filtered through. He wondered, after what she and her human crewmates had undergone, whether she would continue to live and work on Enterprise. If he'd been a gambling man, he'd have taken long odds against it.

He felt confidant that the medication he was giving her would safely reverse the toxic effects of the drug T'Pol had unwittingly ingested, but she would have to regain her composure, and live with her memories.

T'Pol stirred more violently and D'Pac started to reach for more sedation when the sub-commander's eyes shot open, dazed but rational.

"Commander!"

The doctor reached forward and gently touched his patient's shoulder, causing her to turn towards him.

"T'Pol of Vulcan, you must rest and recover your strength."

T'Pol studied the elderly Vulcan's kindly face and her immediate surroundings. "Where is this place?"

"A Vulcan vessel; don't be alarmed, we are docked with Enterprise whilst you receive treatment."

T'Pol thought silently for a few moments, thinking back to her last recollections. A look of pain flitted across her eyes.

"I would like to speak with Captain Archer, as a matter of some urgency. Would you find him for me?"

"I think that should wait until you're a little stronger."

T'Pol was agitated. "This is something which cannot wait. I need to be placed under arrest…for the murder of Commander Tucker."

D'Pac's grey eyebrow rose in surprise, not only at the words, but also at the obvious distress they had caused the speaker. He excused her actions as those of one still emotionally fragile.

"You are mistaken, my dear. Commander Tucker is presently receiving medical attention, and although injured, is very much alive."

The look of relief on her face was uncomfortable for the physician to see. "Are you certain?" T'Pol whispered.

"Yes child. When you have recovered, you can see for yourself."

"I doubt that Commander Tucker will wish to see me."

"Perhaps not. I don't claim to understand these humans, but time will tell."

"I would still like to speak with the captain if he is on board."

D'Pac assessed her condition, and satisfied that she was making good progress, he nodded and rose from his chair.

"I will see if he is still here. In the meantime, rest."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jon had been back to Enterprise to talk to Malcolm and Hoshi whilst Trip slept. He'd tried several times to get more information on T'Pol's condition, but the Vulcans had remained tight-lipped.

"I'm fine, Captain, thank you. How are our people doing?" Malcolm had effectively diverted attention away from himself again, and if Jon knew it, he let it go. He knew his armoury officer well enough by now to know that he wouldn't admit any discomfort to his captain. He just hoped that the reserved Englishman would take time to find someone to unburden himself to.

"Trip's going to be ok, just a bit slow on his feet for a while. Phlox helped to set his fractures and he's resting, under duress."

Malcolm laughed at the mental image of his obstinate friend's face. Trip hated being in sickbay, but a **_Vulcan_ sickbay was adding insult to injury. But he remembered his friend's traumatised throat, and the person responsible for it, and the smile disappeared from his lips.**

"And the sub-commander?"

Jon sighed, shaking his head. "It's just going to take time. I've spoken to their chief Medical officer, an old guy called D'Pac. He seems to think that she'll be ok, but he wouldn't commit himself to much. It's the waiting I can't stand…it's been nearly twelve hours since they transported us up. How long can it take to counteract the effects of drugs? I mean, Hoshi's much better."

"Hoshi's reaction was much less marked, Captain. We both know that. She's fine now, in fact quite embarrassed at how…verbal she got. But the sub-commander's reaction was much stronger, and will take that much longer to reverse."

Jon nodded at Malcolm's wise words. "Thanks. I guess we wait."

"We could always kill some time chatting to Chancellor Ardl," Malcolm tried.

Jon's reply was destined never to be heard as he was hailed from the bridge. He crossed to the wall and pushed the intercom button.

"Archer, go ahead."

"Captain," Travis spoke, "you're requested back on the Vellos…something about the sub-commander, I believe."

"Thanks, Travis. Tell them I'm on my way. Archer out." Turning to Malcolm, he grinned. "Maybe the waiting's over."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Now that the meeting was about to take place he was suddenly worried about how it would go. He knew T'Pol would be very uncomfortable with how things had developed on the planet, and he wasn't used to having her anything other than her normal stoic self. If she broke down in front of him, he wouldn't know how to comfort her. Squaring his shoulders as he stood outside her door, he pressed the chime.

T'Pol opened the door and stood aside to invite him in. He looked carefully at her face, relieved to see that her usual, unreadable mask was back, but there was a certain vulnerability about her that was out of place. She indicated the single chair and after she'd perched herself, back ram-rod straight, on the edge of the bed, Jon sat.

T'Pol studied the captain's bruised face, and the way he carried himself. "How are you feeling, Captain?"

"Me? I'm fine, T'Pol. More to the point how are you? I'm…um…sorry about your head."

T'Pol considered his words, realising that she did indeed have a pounding headache. Her quizzical look let him know that she didn't understand what he was referring to, and for one cowardly moment he thought of not confessing any further.

"I…um…had to hit you to knock you out. You were choking Trip, you see."

She nodded in sudden understanding. "It was a logical action, Captain. If I recall, I **_was_** fully intending to kill the commander, and all of you. This is the very reason I've asked to speak with you…I intend to return to Vulcan, as under the circumstances, I cannot continue my work on Enterprise."

TBC


	14. chapter fourteen

A/N     thanks for the reviews…they really do make it worthwhile writing stories. As to whether this is a Trip/T'Pol story, I don't as yet, write romances, but the way I see it, living in such close proximity as a star ship, friendships will inevitably strengthen, even between those who at first barely communicated with each other.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jon's jaw dropped at the news; this was most definitely not what he'd expected or wanted to hear. He could acknowledge T'Pol's discomfiture, and he supposed anyone else would be given permission to return home, but he didn't want to lose her from the crew, or as a friend. He looked at her determined face, but she was adopting the habit of not making eye contact, finding something utterly fascinating on the carpet to look at. 

Jon swallowed his automatic response and gave careful thought to what he would say next. "T'Pol, I think I know a little of what you're going through, what you're feeling. Vulcans pride themselves in being in full control of their emotions, and on Solan you lost that control. But don't you see, you didn't **_lose_** it, it was taken from you. There's a whole world of difference."

"Lost…taken, what does the word matter? I intended physical harm to all of you, and I feel shame for my actions."

"But you weren't yourself, T'Pol."

Her voice was suddenly quiet and he had to strain to hear her. "But what if I was **_truly_** myself? What if I were to lose control again? I might kill a member of the crew, and I wouldn't want to do that, and most certainly couldn't stay on Enterprise if I did. Better if I were to leave now, and avoid that risk."

Jon ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. "We have an old, classic story from a few centuries ago, about a doctor who experimented on himself with mind-altering drugs. The…thing…that he became under the drugs' influence was a monster over which he had no control. Deep down, we all have a darker side to ourselves which we keep hidden even from our closest friends because it should never get out. Your darker side was released through no fault of your own. No-one on Enterprise is going to think any less of you for that."

"My own people are…uncomfortable."

"Yeah? All the more reason to stay with us emotionally volatile humans, then. We're not going to condemn you for your actions."

"I doubt that Commander Tucker will be quite so understanding." She still studied the spot on the carpet.

"Don't be so quick to pigeon-hole Trip, or put words into his mouth. He's a passionate, compassionate man. His first thoughts on waking were to know if you were ok. Talk to him, T'Pol, before you make your final decision. If, after that, you still want to leave Enterprise, I'll not stop you, but we'll all be sorry to see you go."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Trip walked slowly and carefully towards T'Pol's temporary quarters. Jon had told him only that she wanted to talk with him, but didn't feel ready to leave her sanctuary. His friend had offered to walk with him to the door, as he could see that Trip was still hurting from his injuries, but Trip had thanked him and declined. He wanted to use the time to marshal his feelings. Part of him, especially the physical parts that still hurt, hankered for some form of justice, but overall he knew that he forgave her for trying to kill him: he just needed to convince her of that.

He was startled by the haunted look in her usually flat, unreadable eyes as she opened the door and admitted him. After the first contact, she lowered her eyes to the carpet.

"Commander, thank you for coming. Please sit, you are not well."

"Thanks," he muttered as he sank gratefully onto the chair. She sat on the edge of the bed, in the same bearing as with the captain, '_like someone had shoved a pole up her ass', Trip thought. Except that, normally she would look the target straight in the eye, not this avoidance tactic she was currently employing._

Painfully, he stooped over and looked up into her face, surprised to find it troubled. He cleared his throat and spoke gently.

"How ya feeling, T'Pol?"

She glanced up, a fleeting look of embarrassment crossing her strong features. "It is precisely because of what I **_am_ feeling that I asked you to come here, Commander. I am ashamed of my actions, ashamed that I lost control. When I see your injuries, and hear how you can barely speak because of what I did…" **

Uncharacteristically, she appeared to run out of words.

"Hey, where's all this comin' from? You've nothin' to be ashamed about. Since when did Vulcans get to be so all-powerful that they could even withstand the effects of drugs?"

Trip's voice was still only a hoarse whisper and T'Pol had to strain to catch his words. She wanted to tell him to stop, to just let her go home, but inwardly she longed for his forgiveness and to hear him say so. She still felt raw and vulnerable, and fought to keep tears from her eyes. Trip crossed carefully and knelt in front of her. Cautiously, he took one of her small hands in his.

"Come on, stop bein' so hard on yourself."

"I tried to kill you." She allowed him to keep a hold of her hand, enjoying the sensation of comfort.

"Yeah? Doesn't seem so many months since I was the one holdin' a phase pistol on you, an' if memory serves me right, I **_was_** gonna shoot."

"You were disoriented by toxic pollen. That was understandable."

Trip wondered why she couldn't see the correlation between the two events; it was normally she who pointed out logical situations to his illogical mind. He grinned at the reversed fortunes, knowing that it wouldn't last.

"An' so's this. But if you're so sure that I'm the injured party, so to speak, then don't I get a say in the outcome?"

"Of course, Commander. I am quite prepared to be punished for my actions, although I told the captain I would be ready to leave Enterprise."

His eyebrows rose at her words; Jon certainly hadn't prepared him for that bombshell.

"My 'sentence' would be to make ya stay here, amongst us smelly, infuriatin' humans. Goin' back to Vulcan would be **_way_ too lenient…Don't go, T'Pol. I trust ya with my life. Besides, if you do go, who am I gonna annoy? Malcolm would knock me on my back, Travis is always bouncin' around in that sweet spot of his, Hoshi'd tie me up with words…" he grinned, cranking up the charm factor to 100%.**

T'Pol sniffed back those traitorous tears. Slowly, she began to relax, looking with a growing fondness at this complex human. As Captain Archer had said, he was indeed a passionate, compassionate man.

"Under those circumstances, Commander, it would be remiss of me to ask anyone else to shoulder that particular burden. I must therefore stay, if only to keep you out of further trouble." 

END

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